


Definitive Match

by niklovr



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:36:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niklovr/pseuds/niklovr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has grown tired of the one-night stand scene, so he turns to his sister, Morgana, and her matchmaking agency to find The One. Perfect, right? Wrong. Guinevere is Morgana's business partner and she is not prepared to see him again although their little secret happened nearly a decade ago. Soulmates are discovered in unlikely places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desperado

Chapter 1: Desperado

Arthur Pendragon had sworn never again. No more clubs. No more pick ups. No more waking up in a stranger's bed. Too bad he hadn't lived up to that promise.

A faint tingling in his left arm alerted him to the sleeping body that had captured his appendage. Only a distant murmuring sounded from the nude blonde as he carefully tugged his arm free of her slender frame. Lights from street lamps filtered through the uncovered windows and revealed a sparse bedroom and a large king size bed with red silk sheets that barely covered either of them. Arthur realized the décor was similar to other bedrooms from other late night adventures. 

Eyes wide, Arthur held his breath and watched his companion, silently hoping that Vivian, Elena, Marigold—whatever her name was—would remain asleep and he could make his escape without any awkward questions or requests.

This is stupid, he thought, as he slid from the bed and landed on his knees. This game wasn't new to him. He kept his gaze trained on her, whoever she was, while he reached around for his boxer briefs, jeans, socks, and shoes. With the items in hand, he rose to his feet and made a hasty retreat to the living room where he found his shirt, belt, and phone. 

Practice and expertise had him dressed and out of the apartment in under three minutes. Little traffic greeted him on Wilshire. The usually busy boulevard had a half-mile of condo high-rises that stretched from Westwood to Beverly Hills. In the early hours before daybreak, Arthur appreciated the quiet. Behind the steering wheel of his black Koenigsegg CCX, he used the smooth drive home to Malibu to question his life choices.

"I'm seriously fucking up," he muttered under his breath.

One by one, all of his friends were starting to settle down. His best friend, Merlin, had lost his shit over a spiritualist in West Hollywood. He hardly ever saw him anymore. Most of their conversations were prefaced with "Freya said this…" or "You wouldn't believe what Freya did…" It was enough to make Arthur gag. Even Gwaine had shacked up with an attorney, of all professions! Zoey Andata was model-hot, but on paper, she seemed way too complicated for his leisurely friend. Yet the two of them were two years strong. Then there was his cousin Percival—

As if on cue, the distinctive ringtone for "We Are the Champions" sounded from his car's speakers. Percival's name appeared on the dash. What was the newlywed doing up at this hour? Arthur wondered. 

He pushed the appropriate Bluetooth button and answered the call.

"Hey?"

"Hey, cuz!" 

"Everything alright?" Arthur asked. Percival sounded…giddy. At this hour, he couldn't imagine him and his bride trolling bars. But anything was possible. Maybe they weren't as disgustingly happy as everyone thought?

"It's perfect! Where are you?"

"On the 10 headed for PCH. Why? Do you need a ride?"

"No! I'm home, man," Percival said, laughing. 

"Is Laryn there?" Arthur asked. He merged onto Pacific Coast Highway. As with most of his drive, the traffic continued to be light. Although he was only minutes from home and the promise of a hot shower, he considered turning around and heading over to his cousin's condo. Percival's penchant for late night prank calls had ended during their second quarter of grad school. It wasn't like him to be this perky so late at night unless alcohol was the culprit.

"Yeah, she's here! Say hello, Lary!"

"Hey, Arthur!" came the faint distinct Southern accent from the background. Then Percival's deeper tone returned. "She's fantastic! She's amazing! I've been calling you for hours, man. Where were you? Or should I ask?"

"Never mind that. What's going on? Are you in trouble?"

"Hell no! We're having a baby!"

Arthur lax grip on the steering wheel switched to an ironclad hold. "You're what?"

"We found out a while ago, but we waited a few weeks to tell everyone—"

"Are you drunk?"

Percival laughed. "Maybe a little. Hey! Did you hear me? There's going to be a little Pendragon in a few months. I hope you're ready. We want you to be the godfather. Talk to you later, cuz!"

"Godfather? Wait!"

But Arthur was too late. Percival was gone and only dead air heard his plaintive cry. 

Godfather? To a baby? No, wait. Percival a father? So of the Fantastic Four, Arthur was the only sorry SOB to still be alone? To still find himself crawling out of a stranger's bed in the dead of night? To still feel hopeless and pathetic? Damn. He always thought Gwaine would be the last to settle down. Not him. 

By the time he reached his Malibu beachside hideaway, he was a sorrowful mess. He trudged inside, headed straight for the shower, and hoped the steady stream of hot water would wash away the disappointment that he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge. As he crawled into bed, he listened to the rolling waves of the Pacific for a long time before slumber claimed him.

AG&AG

"ARTHUR!"

"No," he grumbled into his pillow. He buried his face below the covers, hoping the obnoxious bellow of his sister was only a bad dream.

The following silence gave him comfort. He dozed back off. In the back of his mind, he heard the faint hum of his snore. The familiar tune lulled him back to sleep. 

Then suddenly water dribbled on the back of his head. Cold air hit his bare backside. He rose up on his forearms in outrage.

"MORGANA!"

"Rise and shine, playboy." She giggled and used his belt to swat his rear. "Hurry up! Get dressed."

"Get out." 

"Oh, I've seen it before," she said, while backing up to the door. 

"We were three!" 

Arthur peered over his pillow. Her smile looked dangerous, but her attire was the usual for their weekly Sunday morning run on the beach. He had half a mind to beg out of it, but knowing his sister, no amount of begging would turn him loose. He was hers at least until noon. That was their deal. It had always been that way.

"Do I have to dress you?" She took a step forward.

"No!" He waved toward the door. "Go. I'll meet you downstairs."

"You have three minutes and I'm being generous. I know you can do it in two."

"Out with you!"

Her evil cackle greeted him when he sauntered into his kitchen minutes later. Padding in sock-covered feet across the tile floor, he cradled his Nikes in the crook of his arm as he headed straight to the coffeemaker. With all the bright light filtering into the room, including his sister's wicked grin, caffeine would be the only thing to save him.

But Morgana was quick. "No coffee! Water, yes. Juice, okay. Coffee, no. Not before a run. You'll puke your guts out and that's no fun at all."

"What's fun about a run anyway?"

She pulled two bottles of pomegranate juice from the fridge and tossed one at him. "It keeps that gorgeous bod of yours in check."

"Football keeps me in check and my weight room."

"That weight room cannot compare with the cries of seagulls flying overhead or the challenge of sand beneath your feet. Stop being a baby and put your shoes on."

She had that no nonsense look about her so he knew better than to put up a fuss. A few minutes later, they were on the sand and his beach house was becoming a speck behind them.

"Where were you last night?" she asked. 

"Out."

"Oh."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What does that mean? You know you sound like Father when you do that?"

"Do not."

"Do so," he muttered. 

Their run slowed to a stop. Both went through their usual stretches until they ended sitting side-by-side on the sand, facing the rolling surf of the Pacific.

"Percival has news—"

"I heard."

"You don't have to be such an ass about it," she snapped, nudging his side with her elbow. "It's good news. He and Laryn are excited. You would know that if you hadn't been out humping around."

The burn ignited in his throat and made a slow ascent to cover his face. Two years ago, he would have laughed off her words, but today, they shamed him. 

"What? No witty comeback?" 

He shrugged. He had no defense. In all honesty, he was tired of the chase. A different girl and a different bed every other night had lost its glitter and charm ages ago, but he was too stubborn to admit it. Hell, he was too much his father's son. 

"Nope," he mumbled.

"So, you'll let me help you now?"

"Huh?" He turned his gaze from the endless blue of the ocean to stare at his sister. Although they had different mothers, he never considered her as anything less than his full blood. "What are you rambling on about?"

"Your perfect match is out there—"

"Oh… No. Whoa, Morga—"

"Don't be such a baby," she said. She stood and dusted the sand from her rear. Then she extended her hand to him. He accepted and once they were both standing, she stared up at him and added, "You can't keep running. You're not like, Father."

"He's on wife no. 6."

"And my mom is on honeymoon with hubby no. 4. Between the two of them, I should be a train wreck, but I'm not. Neither are you."

They headed back home at a slower pace. In the quiet, Arthur mulled over Morgana's offer. Long-term romantic entanglements had never been his forte. He couldn't remember the last time he had a steady significant other. For business functions, he usually went stag. But lately, the aloneness was starting to bother him. He didn't want to be like his father. Uther Pendragon tumbled from one woman to the next. If Arthur didn't do something quick, he was headed in that direction. Shit, he was already there.

"How does it work? I fill out a questionnaire and a computer pops out my soulmate?" 

"Um…no. Come by the office on Monday and you'll find out." 

AG&AG

Guinevere DeGrance reminded herself that she viewed change as a positive. Good things happened from change. Closing the Manhattan office of Definitive Match to share matchmaking duties with Morgana in Los Angeles had been wise. It wasn't like she was giving up or running away. New York was way too expensive and consolidating the business was a smart move for both of them. Believing in the power of love did not mean that they weren't savvy entrepreneurs. Still, the bump-and-go drive on the 405 had her missing the ride on the train something fierce. 

"Hey, it's not the Empire State Building, but that view can't be that bad."

Gwen smiled as she turned from the window to face her brother's worried frown. "I'm fine, Elyan."

"You could have fooled me." He sat behind her desk, transferring her PC files to the new iMac that the office used. She sat across from him on the guest chair and watched in wonder as his fingers flew across the keyboard. "Manhattan Beach is a great location."

"I know. Lots of shops and restaurants. It's cute."

"Cute," he snickered. "You hate it. Admit it."

"I don't. It's just different."

"My California born sister is a New Yorker. Never thought I'd see the day."

"You make it sound bad." She sighed. "The 405 was hell this morning. I just have to get used to it again is all."

"Okay." His tone confessed that he wasn't convinced, but the gentleness in his eyes conveyed that he would let the subject drop. For now. "You're all set."

He stood and began boxing up her desktop. She felt a twinge go through her. "You don't have to do that. You'll be late for work."

"No problem. I'm almost done. Besides, it's your last box. You want to be ready when your lovelorn come knocking. Boxes everywhere will freak them out."

"I love how you have jokes." She handed him his jacket. He pulled it on and smiled. "They're not lovelorn. They just require a little assistance."

"Okay." He picked up the box and headed for the office door. "I'll see you later."

"I thought maybe we'd have lunch today."

He shook his head. "Can't. I got a text this morning. I'm needed in the Chicago field office."

"The never ending travels of an FBI agent," she said, unable to keep the pride from her voice. 

He kissed her forehead. "It really is good to have you back home. I'll call you later."

Gwen settled in. She arranged the plants on her windowsill just so and adjusted the framed photos on the wall. The office space had to give off a certain air. It was important that prospective clients felt comfortable and safe when they approached her for help. Love wasn't easy and admitting that one required assistance often came with difficulty. Regardless of her locale, she firmly believed in putting her guests at ease. The more comfortable they were with her, the easier it was for her to read them and to understand the things that were unsaid that mattered just as much.

She was reviewing the Los Angeles database when she heard the outer door open. Morgana's voice and a deeper, masculine tone responded. 

"I'm sorry!" Morgana said, sounding exasperated. "I just got the call."

"Later—"

"No, you come back here!" Morgana said. "Come on. Wait here. Don't you dare move."

Gwen was not an eavesdropper, but she couldn't help it in this case. She selected a random playlist on iTunes in an attempt to drown out the conversation. Despite Morgana's sometimes boisterous persona, her friend and business partner had a good heart. Deep down. A moment later, Gwen's door opened and Morgana came inside. 

"Sorry for barging in. Are you settled in okay?" The brunette looked around with a wide smile. "The boxes are gone and so is your PC. Did I miss Elyan?"

"By a half hour." Gwen nodded toward the door. "Is everything okay?"

Morgana rolled her eyes. "Just a big baby throwing a tantrum. I probably shouldn't have said that in light of the favor I'm about to ask."

"Favor?"

"That big baby is a potential client who also happens to be my brother—"

"Arthur?" Gwen fought the urge to frown. "He's out there?"

"Yes, he's ridiculous. We have to help him."

"We?" Gwen felt her cheeks hurt from the force of the smile. "What do you mean 'we'?"

"Actually, I mean…you. Please, Gwen. I hate to ask, but I have to go."

"Why! No, don't go!"

"I have to. It'll be worth it. You'll see," she said, backing toward the door.

Gwen stood. "Then have Arthur come back when you're available."

"He needs help now! Besides, he wouldn't come back. I know him. If he leaves now, he'd never come back." Then Morgana rushed toward her and took her hand. "Please, I'll owe you big for this. Arthur is in a strange place right now, and if anyone needs our services, it's him."

"But he's your brother—"

"Which makes it better that he's your client than mine." Morgana pulled her into a brief tight hug and then was at the door. "Thanks, Gwen!"

Gwen stood stammering and searching for better words of protest, but she was too late. The door opened again and Morgana had ushered Arthur inside and was gone before either of them could react. 

"Hi," Arthur said. He stood just inside the door, looking like a cross between a rugged cowboy and a GQ model. He was dressed in a black button down shirt that hung loosely from his torso yet somehow hugged his broad chest and shoulders. His dark jeans were snug on his thighs and were wide enough at the bottom that the tips of his shiny cowboy boots peeked through. His saunter to the guest chair was everything Gwen remembered. 

Just as those sapphire blue eyes gave her the once over, Don Henley's voice came loudly from the speakers with…

'Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?  
Come down from your fences, open the gate…'

Gwen bit back a giggle as she scrambled to pause the music. 

"Eagles fan?" 

She nodded. "Have a seat."

She waited until he took possession of the chair across from her before she sought refuge in the leather throne on wheels behind the protection of her desk. Protection? She silently scolded herself at the thought. Arthur Pendragon would never have to reduce himself to attacking any woman. Not even her, not that he would remember. As she narrowed her eyes at him and really assessed the toll of a decade on him, she wondered if he remembered that night ten years ago.

"Probably not," she murmured under her breath.

"Excuse me?" he said, leaning forward just a bit. "I didn't catch that."

"I'm Gwe—"

"Guinevere," he said. "I know who you are. You're Morgana's partner. You were her roommate during undergrad. I remember you."

"Really?" She picked up a pencil and notepad and began to doodle. She had to do something, anything to keep her hands busy and her mouth from getting away from her. "So how can I help you today?"

"Me? Help me?" he asked, appearing suddenly flustered. He crossed his left leg over his right knee. His right fingers drummed a beat on his ankle. "Um…"

"There's no need to be nervous."

"I'm not nervous." He fixed her with a hard stare that nearly took her breath away. 

"Okay." Gwen shrugged. "Tell me what you're looking for in a woman."

"Excuse me?"

The indignation in his voice surprised her. In response, she transformed into her professional matchmaker mode and left the hurt, disappointed twenty-two year old Gwen in the past. 

"Definitive Match specializes in assisting our clients in finding that special someone. Love is not always easy, but we believe that it is possible and that perfect person is out there for you."

"Have you found yours?"

She gave him a faint smile and a shrug. "What are you looking for in a relationship?"

The faint twitch at his mouth alerted her that her non-answer didn't go unnoticed. He uncrossed his legs and leaned back against the chair. "I want what everyone wants, I guess. Someone who understand me."

"You could be more specific," she said, preparing to jot down notes. "When you think of your future, whom do you see yourself with?"

"I-I don't know."

"Okay, how about starting with the basics?" Gwen suggested.

"Basics?" Arthur frowned.

"Looks…profession, I suppose. Blonde, brunette, redhead? White, black, Asian, or Latin?"

"None of that matters," he said. His frown had deepened. "That sort of thing doesn't matter to me."

"Okay." Gwen noted that and continued. "What about height, weight, or build?"

"What? I don't care. I like women." He made the shape of an hourglass with his hands. 

"So you prefer women with curves?"

"Fine, I guess." He rubbed a hand over his face. "You know this is nuts."

"No, it isn't. You're talking—"

"So, what do you like?"

She paused her note taking to look at him. "Excuse me?"

"Blonde, brunette, or redhead? What do you like?" he asked, a smirk on his full lips. "Do you prefer your men muscular, athletic, chubby, or skinny?"

Gwen was taken aback for a moment. It pained her to admit it, but the smirk was actually kind of sexy in an arrogant kind of way. However, she couldn't let him take control. This was her arena. He might be the bull, but she was the matador. 

"What I like isn't up for discussion," she said with a bright smile that seemed to make him blush. "Are you old-fashioned?"

"Huh?"

She could tell the question perplexed him so she opted for a different approach. "When it comes to relationships, do you prefer to be the aggressor? Do you like to pursue?"

That questioned produced a wide, devilish grin. "Yes."

Gwen resisted the urge to fan herself and looked toward the window for relief. From her position, she could see parts of the beach. Kids played in the sand. Older couples strolled hand in hand. The images were enough to cool her libido. Just a bit.

"Okay, so what do you like to do for fun?"

"Sports."

"Which ones?" she asked, relieved that he didn't say sex.

"Football, basketball, soccer, hockey, skiing, skateboarding… I could go on."

"I get the idea." She wrote quickly. "Is this something you'd like to do with your mate?"

"I guess."

The doubt in his voice surprised. She stopped writing to look at him. "Did you do these things in your last relationship?"

"I can't remember," he said quietly. "It's been awhile."

"Would you like to?"  
He looked down at where his hands rested on his lap. Gwen tried to read his expression, but couldn't. The teasing flirtatious man was gone. He had become contemplative and maybe a little sad.

When he looked at her again, he had a wan smile on his face. "Yes, I would. I like music, too, and traveling. When it comes to a relationship, I do want someone who understands me. The name and the reputation makes it hard sometimes, you know?"

Gwen nodded. The Pendragon name meant money and power to many people. Morgana had had her fair share of glory seekers and gold diggers, so Gwen could only imagine the disappointments Arthur had faced. Maybe she had been too hard on him? Maybe.

"I understand. Your prospects will be vetted. I can assure you."

"Prospects, as in plural?" 

She nodded again. "Yes, you do have a perfect, definitive match, but possibilities are to be explored."

He frowned. "How many?"

"Not that many," she snapped. 

His eyes widened at her quick retort and she pressed her hand to her mouth. She hadn't meant for that to come out. 

"Um…I have a brief questionnaire for you to complete and you can email it back to me. Then I'll see if any of our clientele will suit you."

Gwen stood and Arthur slowly did the same. He gave her a strange look. "So that's it?"

"Yes, we're done."

"What if she doesn't suit me?" he asked. "Will I have to come back and figure out a different strategy or something?"

"Maybe, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." She handed him her card. "My email is listed here. If you need anything, drop me a line. I'll send you the questionnaire—"

"Here's my card." He pulled his from his wallet. As he placed it on the palm of her hand, their fingers touched. He drew in a deep breath and snatched his hand back. "Good seeing you again, Guinevere."

"You too, Arthur."

Gwen stood until he left. When the door shut behind him, she slumped into her chair and exhaled. Far too many years had passed for him to have this affect on her. On the bright side, she mentally patted herself on the back for her calm display of her professionalism. She'd wasted four years of undergrad of being hopelessly infatuated with that blonde Adonis only to lose her virginity to him at a stupid graduation party. From his demeanor, it was obvious that the only thing he remembered about those four years was that she roomed with his sister. She supposed fortune was on her side that he had no recollection of her awkward fumbling or whispered confessions. Gwen DeGrance was just one of many notches on the belt of Arthur Pendragon.

Yet, he called her Guinevere and that's the name he'd always used for her although everyone else called her Gwen. Even on that night, so long ago.

Gwen sighed. "Snap out of it, girlfriend."

She straightened in her chair and clicked the mouse to open the database of possibilities for Mr. Pendragon. She then clicked play on her playlist and allowed The Eagles to serenade her wistfulness away.


	2. Those Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen seeks solace via retail therapy and the kindness of an old friend. Meanwhile, Arthur hangs with the boys and faces their reaction to his quest for finding The One.

Wednesday afternoon arrived and Gwen's façade of calm reached its limit. Morgana's erratic departure the other morning had been followed by an equally sporadic appearance in the office. Her secret emergency had put a pile of work in Gwen's lap. In all honesty, Gwen didn't mind the work. It kept her thoughts from wandering. Until a certain email arrived shortly after lunch. After that, all bets were off. She closed shop, went shopping, and somehow found herself parked at the Marina. 

Minutes ticked away as she lingered inside the cab of her ancient, but trusty F-150. After awhile, she started to get stares. "For Pete's sake," she mumbled under her breath. 

The next thing she knew, she was on the dock and facing Goblin's Gold. The sailboat looked as if it had weathered plenty storms and would be around to face more. She hoped so because it was the home of her best friend.

"Permission to come aboard!"

Sun-bleached blonde curls greeted her first. Then came the bearded grin. 

When did he grow a beard?

"Granted," Leon deMaris beckoned with a wave. He clutched a screwdriver in his right hand and God-knew-what in his left. He leaned forward to give her his shoulder to assist with her descent. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"You, too." 

She couldn't help but assess him from head to his bare toes. The greasy t-shirt and cut-off jeans were a big change compared to the last time she saw him. Still an FBI man, he was decked out in a gray pinstripe suit that made heads turn as they walked through Times Square for a late afternoon lunch.

"What's up with the beard?" she asked. 

He just grinned. "Those cushions over there are clean. I can't vouch for anything else."

She accepted his invitation. He pulled his pile of "treasures" closer to her and sat beside it on the deck in front of her. Working with his screwdriver, he continued with his task as he took his turn to give her a onceover.

"Elyan said you're still clinging to New York." He nodded. "I can see it. What's in the bag? I'm pretty sure you didn't pick up a six-pack at Nordstrom's."

"Shoes—"

"Oh, boy. Jimmy Choo's?" He lowered the screwdriver to his lap and gave her a hard look. "What's wrong?"

Feeling a little exposed, she just shrugged. "They're just shoes."

"Take it from a guy, and I'm speaking for all guys. Jimmy Choo doesn't make 'just shoes' and his shoes definitely don't look like 'just shoes' on you." He frowned. "And you don't throw down Jimmy Choo cash for the helluva it. What's up, Gwen?"

"I should have left the bag in the truck," she grumbled.

Leon laughed. "Yeah, right, and risk them being stolen. Stop stalling."

"I'm not," she said with a shrug. That's the thing with best friends. They got the subtext with only scraps of details. It was freaky. Plus, Gwen wasn't sure if she was ready to share. But Leon was starting to give her that look. The one both he and Elyan perfected at Quantico. Damn, there was no way out of this. Then again, maybe talking it out would help give her some perspective.

"Manwhore clients are the worst."

"Whoa!" he said, laughing.

"Excuse me, I meant manslut clients are the worst and to top it off his questionnaire is nothing but pages of gibberish! I would bet he's bedded 75 per cent of our database. Finding him a suitable mate that has not been tainted by his charms will be like finding a needle in a fucking haystack!"

By the time she finished, Leon's face was red and tears were streaming down his cheeks. His guffaws had subsided, but he made a show of clutching his sides. She rolled her eyes at him in response.

"Let me guess," he said, making an obvious attempt at abating his humor. 

"Oh, I'm sure you already know."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I confess. Morgana told me, but…her version wasn't nearly as good as yours."

"Shut up, Leon."

That only produced a loud, unmanly squeak. Laughter bubbled from him that was so contagious that Gwen couldn't help but release a few chuckles. She supposed she went in hard. As they sobered, she hoped that the former profiler wouldn't look too closely at her tirade. She hadn't driven to the Marina for a diagnosis, or had she?

In the following silence, Leon's soft gaze held hers. After awhile, she began to squirm. She knew that look. She shoved her sunglasses back on and looked out across the water. It was so pleasant out there. The rolling waves created a gentle rocking motion. If it could just stay quiet like this, she would be okay.

Of course, that was not to be.

"Ten years isn't long enough, huh?" 

She forced herself to remain still. "Long enough for what?"

"Um…" Leon began slowly. "To be away from this place. The memories…?"

"Memories of what?" She heard the slight edge in her voice, but it couldn't be helped. As far as she knew, no one had a clue about what transpired between her and Arthur that night. She needed it to stay that way.

"Nothing, Gwen," he said gently. "So, what are you going to do for your slut of a client?"

"I shouldn't have said that," she said quietly. "Please, don't tell Morgana."

"You know I wouldn't."

Gwen thought about Arthur's ridiculous answers to the questionnaire. The form was pretty basic, so it boggled her mind how his response was something she'd never seen before. She had a PhD in Psychology. She understood how the mind worked, and she had created that questionnaire to help uncover their clients' deepest desires. So far, it had helped Definitive Match have a ninety per cent success rate in matches! Of course, Arthur Pendragon would be the person to ruin that.

"I don't know what to do," she said with a sigh. 

"What about the questionnaire?" Leon also had a degree in Psychology. While he hadn't helped Gwen create the form, he had reviewed it and marveled at its insightfulness and potential for accuracy. 

"Oh, boy," she murmured.

"What?"

"It's not gonna work," she said. 

"What do you mean it won't work?" he asked. "It's great."

"His answers…" Her voice trailed off as she waved her hand for emphasis. "I can't… And like I said, I'm concerned that our database will not be…um…unique to him. The key to the matches is that they get to know each other fresh, you know? If he's already pulled a hit and run, how is that gonna work?"

"That's not for you to worry about," her good friend told her. "You find the match and it'll work itself out."

"Don't throw my words back at me," she said with a faint smile.

"I will if they make sense." He picked up his screwdriver and started digging around again on the greasy mass of metal in his lap. "So, um, what about your prospects?"

"Mine?" She released a short, humorless laugh. "I'm not looking."

"You're too fantastic to be alone."

"I just moved back and I need to settle—"

"You grew up here. Could you stop with the bullshit, please?"

She kicked him and he laughed.

"I was working off Catalina the other weekend."

"I remember. You were nowhere to be found when my moving van and I showed up."

"Look, when I'm diving, I lose track of time. Give me a minute and I'll make up for that."

"Right. Okay. What about Catalina."

"Yeah," Leon said, "as I was saying about Catalina, I was diving and ran into this guy. He's a diver, too—"

"Diver? You're looking for buried treasure in the Pacific. Let's keep it real, okay? Is that what your new friend does, too?" she asked.

He glared at her for a half minute. "Yeah," he said with a hint of attitude. "Sure, I'm looking for artifacts, but diving requires skill."

"My apologies."

"I'll let you know when I accept them."

"Good grief," she mumbled, playfully rolling her eyes.

"Anyway, his name is Lance. He used to work in law enforcement, too. Homeland Security."

"So."

"So, meet him. See what happens."

"I don't know." She picked invisible lint from her skirt. 

"Think about it."

"Fine." She gave him that much. If she hadn't, he would have gone into persistent-mode and that wouldn't have been good for either of them. Besides, she'd rather question him about his love life. "How are things with Morgana?"

He paused to give her big mysterious smile. "Complicated as usual, but good."

D*M

After spending half the night and most of the morning revealing his innermost secrets on that ridiculous questionnaire, Arthur desperately need to left off steam. He sent the SOS text seconds after he sent the email to Guinevere. 

Guinevere. 

Damn Morgana for not warning him. His last memory of Morgana's roommate was a mousy, awkward girl. Sure, she was kind of cute. Okay, he was bullshitting. Even back in undergrad, he found her attractive, but decidedly not his type. She was too good. He liked his girls bad. At parties, Guinevere sipped ginger ale. The girls he dated chugged Heineken. They wore clingy tops and short skirts. 

Almost like the dress she wore Monday, he thought. Who knew she had a body like that? God, he thought. 

But the way she looked at him. He pretended to be unaffected. Only a long, cold shower could relax him after he left. 

Guinevere DeGrance had definitely evolved.

"Yo!" Percival's shout came with a basketball barreling toward Arthur's head. "Are you in the game or not?"

"I'm here."

"Yeah, right," Gwaine snickered right before he swooped in and stole the ball from him. He followed that maneuver with a clean lay-up. "Nothing but net."

Arthur had suggested the 3-man game to get his mind off women. Gwaine's gloating was enough to pull Arthur back in. Adrenaline propelled him forward. Grunts, sweat, and baskets happened all at once. The friends played hard. When it was over, there was no clear winner, but they were all proud of their individual effort.

"That was a good one," Percival said between gulps of water.

Arthur ran his towel over his drenched face. With the blood pumping through his veins, his mind felt clear for the first time in days. This had been a good idea. He felt invigorated.

"Did you finish the questionnaire?" 

Then Percival's question sent Arthur's mood straight to hell.

"What questionnaire?" Gwaine asked. "Work prospect?"

"Not exactly," Percival answered. "It's a—"

"Could you not," Arthur cut in.

"What?" his cousin asked. "It's just Gwaine."

"Yeah, it's just me."

"He'd probably find out anyway."

"I'm right here," Gwaine said, chewing on a Powerbar. "Find out what?"

Arthur groaned. It was too late to stop it now. He just reclined on the cold court floor, closed his eyes, and waited. Percival wasted no time in explaining. It would be a few seconds before Gwaine doubled over in laughter.

The minutes ticked by. Nothing.

Despite the lump growing in his gut, Arthur chanced it and peeked at the two men. Both sat quietly with thoughtful expressions on their faces. Not a trace of humor to be found.

"Morgana is good at what she does," Gwaine acknowledged.

"Definitive Match has a solid reputation," Percival added.

Arthur rested on his forearms and just stared. 

"Settling down is not a bad idea," Gwaine said. "One good woman who knows and loves you is better than several different ones who don't."

"I'm not saying I'm looking to settle down."

"Yeah, you did," Percival said. "That's exactly what you said."

Arthur stood and headed for the showers. The other two followed. Although he wanted commitment, the idea of it scared him shitless. What did he know about one good woman? How could he be sure he wouldn’t fuck it up?

"Arthur."

He ignored Gwaine and stepped into his private shower cubicle. Being rich had percs. Everyone knew that. But one delicious perc was being able to design his firm's in-house gym and basketball court complete with showers and locker room exactly to his specifications. 

"We know this is a sensitive subject," Percival said as soon as they were all dressing in the locker room.

"No…"

"I'm calling bullshit," Gwaine said. "Who's with me?"

"You're full of shit," Arthur said with a slight edge.

"When was the last time you had a girlfriend?"

"That's so high school." Arthur knew that sounded petty but he didn't care.

"Excuse me," Gwaine said, dripping with sarcasm, "a significant other. When you do bring a woman to events, it's a different one every time. Who can remember their names? I know I can't."

"You're not helping," Percival said.

"What? He needs to hear this."

Arthur glared at both of them. "Perhaps my personal life is off limits."

"What personal life?" Gwaine argued. "You fuck 'em and leave."

Percival groaned and Arthur was torn between punching Gwaine or banging his own head against the concrete wall.

"I don't mean to be crass," Gwaine said.

"You just have a way about you," Arthur muttered.

"But he also has a point," Percival said.

Arthur frowned. "Whose side are you on?"

"You have to ask," his cousin said. "Look, I'm behind you 100 per cent. Gwaine?"

"What? Of course, I am!" Gwaine slapped his back for emphasis. "A good woman will change your life."

"Nope," Percival said. "You will change your life because of her. Don't be scared of what's coming, cuz."

"I'm not scared." But his voice gave him away and his friends just smirked in response.

A last minute consultation had kept Merlin at the hospital later than usual, so he missed the basketball game. The friends decided to head to their favorite pub to meet him and catch him. They also hoped to get in on the turtle race.

Brennan's wasn't too packed upon their arrival. Their hangout on the Marina afforded them cold beer and guaranteed entertainment. The trio headed to their designated corner and found Merlin waiting for them with a pitcher of beer on the table and three empty mugs. His was half full.

"No fair starting without us," Arthur said, slapping his best friend's shoulder as he sat beside him.

"It's been that kind of day," Merlin said, looking as if he was trying to muster a half smile.

Arthur nodded. "Tell me about it."

"How was the game?"

"Brutal," Gwaine said. "But that’s only part of it. Arthur's settling down."

"What?" Merlin sputtered. "You met someone. When? Why am I the last to know? What's her name? When did you meet?"

"Dammit, Gwaine," Arthur ground out. "It's not like that."

"He signed up with Morgana," Percival explained.

"Oh," Merlin said thoughtfully.

"What?" Arthur said, coming close to cursing. Too many people had an opinion about his life. He was about to lose his shit.

"Nothing. Just that—"

"Hey there." A feminine voice purred in Arthur's ear while a dainty hand seized his bicep in a firm grip. "Long time no see."

"Um…" He turned to face his captor as he decisively pried himself loose of her hold. Vibrant green eyes stared at him. Glossy pink lips pouted oh so delectably. She tossed her wavy russet hair for added allure. For once, none of this worked on Arthur. In fact, it kind of grossed him out. "Hi."

"Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"Busy with work." Aware that his best friends were watching, he tried to keep it light. Hell, not only were they watching, they were judging. He was judging himself, too. In this moment, he found himself lacking. 

"You know what they say. All work and no play…"

He shrugged. "Look, um, my friends and I are…um…we're having a private celebration so if you don’t mind…"

"Oh. Okay, sure." She leaned in and kissed his neck. Before she moved away, she whispered not too quietly, "Call me when you get bored with work."

The guys watched her saunter away, but Arthur kept his gaze trained on the door. He felt like a dick. There was no other word for it. Had he always been that easy? 

"He didn't even have to do anything," Gwaine said.

"Just sit down." Percival said.

"Flex," Merlin added. "I think he flexed a little when he poured his beer."

"Shut up."

They all laughed at that. Gwaine and Percival left to put their bid in on the turtle race. Merlin punched his shoulder. 

"So?"

"Not you, too."

Merlin shook his head. "No one's laughing at you. Lighten up."

"Yeah, well." He let the words hang. How could he confess that using his sister's dating service felt strange? Then again, Morgana always stressed that her agency was more than a dating service. Her clients came for more than temporary satisfaction. Yet, temporary was all that Arthur understood. 

The bell at the door tinkered. Arthur barely heard it over the commotion of the turtle competition. Yet, somehow, he sensed that he would have known to look anyway. 

His matchmaker had entered. Dark brown curls framed her tawny heart shaped faced. Her red and white sundress was this short of scandalous. The halter top opened just enough to tease. He was seconds from crossing over to her when he noticed that she wasn't alone. Morgana's friend, Leon, led them to the bar. After she settled on the stool, the tall blonde left. Arthur didn't consider his choices. He strode right over. 

"So that's your type. Blonde. Tall. Grungy looking." 

Arthur only dimly registered the shock on her face. He was too busy getting a better look at her now that he was close. She looked amazing. The splatters of red were perfect against her cinnamon complexion. He knew he was obvious but he couldn't stop his gaze from trailing down. With her sitting on the stool, the dress stopped mid thigh and revealed a pair of nicely toned legs. But those shoes! The way the straps curved around her ankles was enticing. Candy apple red-tipped toes peeked from the criss cross of other straps and Arthur felt an intense, sudden reaction. Like a memory was trying to break through, but he couldn't exactly place it.

"Are you finished?"

"What?" He met her angry brown eyes with cool confidence. 

"You're not serious at all."

"About?"

She just glared at him in response.

Then it hit him. "Oh, that!"

"Yes," she said. "That. Like everything else. It's just a…what? A conquest?"

"Conquest?" he repeated, dumbfounded. "No."

"Yes."

"It isn't—"

"That's not what Definitive Match is about," she said quietly, but firmly. "We match serious clients. You can play your games elsewhere."

"It's not a game—"

Her withering look cut him to the quick. Then Leon reappeared. 

"Sorry about that, but I had to take that call. Oh, hey, Arthur."

"Hi, Leon—"

"Let's go," Guinevere said, sliding from the stool. "The stuffy air in here is making me sick."

Leon looked between the two and slowly nodded. "Okay." He nodded to Arthur. "See you around."

Arthur watched them exit. That had gone downhill fast. Before he could formulate a plan or decide if he wanted to, a hard slap on his upper back jolted him.

"That was a first, huh." Gwaine chuckled and walked off.

True, Arthur thought. He couldn't remember a woman ever walking away from him. He definitely did not like the way it made him feel. Now he had to decide what to do about it—if anything.


	3. Take It Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to Arthur and Gwen's first meeting.

_Freshman Year – 1999_

 

Backpacking in Europe had been an experience Arthur would never forget. Sure, he'd been to Spain, France, and Italy before. Many times. His father had a villa in Provence. He, Percival, and Merlin had spent a week there while they plotted their two-month adventure. No one had believed that they would actually rough it in the wild. He knew money had been on whether or not he'd flash his AMEX and settle on a suite at the Ritz or something. But he'd proven them wrong. In good weather, they slept in tents. In bad, they tracked down the nearest hostel. It had been one of the best trips in all his eighteen years.

 

When his friends returned to the States, Arthur stayed on an extra month. With a pack on his back, he was just an anonymous kid on an adventure and not the heir to a fortune. When girls checked him out, he could be sure it wasn't because of his bank account. Now that he was stateside, it was back to the same ole thing. The constant buzzing of his Nokia had put him into avoidance mode. Instead of answering his cell phone, he unpacked his condo. He had just sat down to set up his new Mac and printer when Morgana allowed herself entry. In the back of his mind, he wondered if giving her a key had been a mistake.

 

"What the hell?"

 

"Welcome back, bro," he said in a high-pitched voice. "Hey, sis. How's it going? Not too bad. You?"

 

"Shut up," she said. In her keenly observant way, she inspected his place from where she stood. When she finished, she planted her hands on her hips and gave him the evil eye. "Why didn't you call me back?"

 

"When?" A sick feeling attacked the pit of his stomach. He pulled his phone from his pocket. He had thirteen missed calls. Four of them were from his sister. The other nine were ones he wasn't in the mood to deal with.

 

"Well?" She tossed her pursed onto the sofa and plopped down onto his favorite recliner. She crossed her legs and waited.

 

He frowned and slid the phone back into his pocket. "I had reasons."

 

"What are their names?"

 

"Names?" he asked with a smirk. He headed toward the kitchen for a Coke. He grabbed one for her, but she declined. They sat at the counter as he swallowed the cold beverage down. "You want names?"

 

"First I want numbers."

 

"Numbers?" This was different. "You want their phone numbers?"

 

"No, dumbass." She kicked him. "How many are on your jock this time?"

 

He cringed. "Don't be crass."

 

"You're my brother, not my father. What's the number?"

 

"Seven."

 

Shaking her head, she laughed. "You're ridiculous." She grabbed an apple from a bowl and polished it on her shirt. Before she bit into it, she asked, "What gives? Why aren't you calling them?"

 

"I thought you wanted their names."

 

"I want all the deets," she said. "Names and why you're running."

 

"I'm not running. I just got home. I'm breathing." He took another swig.

 

"Now, you're stalling."

 

He grunted. Morgana could be a royal pain in the ass! So, she wanted deets…

 

"Nikki, Blythe, Elle, and Sue want to own me." He rattled their names off without blinking an eye. "Tyler and Kari want to stone me."

 

He grabbed her apple and took a bite out of it. She punched his arm.

 

"That's six."

 

He shrugged. "You wanted deets."

 

"You said there were seven." Morgana held out her hand. "Give me the phone."

 

"You can't have my phone. "

 

He left the counter to ransack the fridge. Other than Coke and juice, there was nothing interesting inside. He'd have to remind the maid to stock up. Pizza and burgers were okay, but he liked home cooked meals on occasion. He wasn't the best cook, but he knew the basics of frying eggs and bacon.

 

"Something is up with seven."

 

Arthur closed the fridge and returned his sister's speculative gaze with one of open honesty. "There's nothing up with seven. She's a friend."

 

"A friend?" Morgana rolled her eyes. "Who is this alleged female friend?"

 

"You don't know her."

 

"Name."

 

He muttered an expletive under his breath. LAPD should call Morgana for their next big case, he thought, because she was being wasted on him! He folded his arms across his chest and considered the ramifications of not telling her. The last time wasn't pretty. She was just too damn nosy and his soft spot for her was too damn big for him to stand firm for too long.

 

"Morgause," he said.

 

"What?" she asked, disbelief clearly etched on her face. "You're making that up."

 

"Don't be rude. Her name's Morgause."

 

"What the hell kind of name is that? Morgause. It sounds like a condition."

 

He bit back a chuckle. It wouldn't do to indulge her. "She's French. I met her in Nice."

 

"A friend, huh?" she asked. When he nodded, she said, "Fine. Help me move into my dorm room."

 

"What dorm room? Your condo is in the next unit."

 

She shook her head. "I'm not using it. How can I have the true university experience in a condo off-campus?"

 

"You can't be serious." Upon her glare, he knew that she was. Then he asked, "Do you have a roommate?"

 

She nodded and went to retrieve her purse. She pulled out a printout and read the name. "Guinevere Degrance."

 

"Guinevere?" he repeated. "Is she American?"

 

"Says she's from Los Angeles. Since I signed up late, we didn't get a chance to email." She put the paper back in her purse. "Will you help or not?"

 

"Do I have a choice?"

 

She grinned. "No."

 

"You'll owe me."

 

Her laughter followed him as he grabbed his keys and wallet, and they headed out the door.

 

D*M

 

Gwen could hardly contain herself as her dad drove up De Neve Drive to Sproul Hall. It was the same dorm her mom had stayed in. She'd heard stories about the place all her life. When the letter arrived that her first request would be honored, she jumped with excitement and then cried because her mom wasn't there to share the news. She glanced at her dad. Sitting comfortably in the cab of his F-150, he looked over at her and smiled.

 

"Deira's in heaven doing backflips."

 

She patted her dad's arm and smiled. A few minutes later, they were parked and waiting in line at the front desk for keys to her room and mailbox. Her dad, who hadn't attended UCLA but was a Bruin at heart, looked fondly around the lobby.

 

"I can't tell you how much time I spent here."

 

"Oh, really? Elyan and I thought you and Mama met on your wedding day."

 

Tom laughed. The kids knew the whole story. "No, I delivered pizza. It was love at first sight for me, not so much for your mama. A working boy from South Central had to prove his worth to a college girl, but I did."

 

"You know Mama didn't care about degrees."

 

"I know, but her folks sure did." He laughed. "It's their loss that they don't know how fantastic their grandchildren are."

 

She nodded, but more in acknowledgement of his words. Her father's parents had more than made up for the absence of her mother's in her life. When retelling the story of their family, Gwen always marveled at how her dad left out the part where he worked two other jobs in addition to delivering pizza and eventually saved enough to open his own service station in Torrance.

 

"Gwennie, you're up next."

 

 Checking in was easy. Finding the room on the second floor was even easier. It was just around the corner from the elevator. She'd secured a double. It was about the size of her bedroom at home. She wondered how two people would fare in the space. If her roommate was willing, maybe they could bunk the beds. On second thought, Gwen liked the beds the way they were. Each girl with her own space and side of the room. Her dad left to get some of her things from the truck while Gwen pondered her new residence.

 

Instinctively, she moved to the right, so she chose that bed. The mattress was firm enough. The wooden desk was okay. The closet was small, but she hadn't packed a lot of clothes. There was a small mirror on the closet door with a little basket for toiletries. She was imagining her set-up when a group walked in.

 

The girl in the lead had a cap of dark hair, cut into a bob. Her skin was pale and flawless. She wore tailored shorts and a designer t-shirt that put Gwen's cut-off jeans, tank top, and flannel shirt to shame. Then there were the three guys with her. One was as tall as a tree. The other was kind of skinny with ears that stuck out. The third was blonde, had startling blue eyes, and a pair of shoulders that made her weak. Their eyes met when he walked into the room.

 

"Guinevere?" he said.

 

She nodded. Her throat went dry. When had her name ever sounded like that?

 

"Yeah." She blinked and drew in a deep breath.

 

The girl stepped in front of him and extended her hand. "Never mind him. I'm Morgana Pendragon. We're roommates."

 

"Nice to meet you."

 

"Can we put these down?" asked the skinny one.

 

Upon his request, Gwen noticed that all the boys carried Louis Vuitton luggage. The girl, Morgana, carried nothing but her purse. Morgana patted the boy and told him to drop them.

 

"You're taking this side?" Morgana asked.

 

Gwen nodded. "Yeah. My dad is getting the rest of my things."

 

"Okay." Morgana smiled again. "Your dad brought you? That's nice. These are my—"

 

"Be nice," said the blonde one with the rich voice. "I'm her brother.  Arthur."

 

"I'm her cousin. Percival," said the tall one.

 

"I'm no relation. Merlin," said the skinny one, taking deep breaths. "You're Gwen?"

 

"Yeah, sure."

 

Arthur frowned, but he didn't say anything. Then he looked around the room and shook his head. "I give it a week at the most."

 

"A week?" Percival asked. "Maybe a night."

 

"That's harsh," Merlin chimed in. "I'd said the weekend."

 

Gwen looked at the three boys and kept her opinion to herself. It wasn't like she knew what they were talking about.

 

Morgana rolled her eyes. "Don't mind them. They're being asses, as usual."

 

"Yeah, asses who carried your luggage up two flights of steps," Arthur said.

 

Commotion at the door signaled the arrival of Gwen's belongings and to her surprise two unexpected visitors.

 

"Elyan!" She hugged her brother who had to drop the box he'd carried in when she claimed his arms. Then she attacked, "Leon!" who also had to lose the package he'd brought. Her father lingered in the doorway.

 

"What are you doing here?"

 

"We saw Dad downstairs and followed him up," Elyan said.

 

"No, what are you doing _here_! I thought your schedule was tight and you couldn't leave San Diego."

 

"We went AWOL," Leon said, grinning at her.

 

Morgana moved in to stand beside Gwen. "Are you military?"

 

"Nope," Leon said.

 

"We go to UVA," Elyan said. "We were at the base attending a seminar."

 

"How long can you stay?" Gwen said, taking their hands. She hadn't seen them in months. Their schedules kept them busy. They were on the fast track to high security government careers and she was lucky if she spoke to them on the phone or received an email from them.

 

"Not long enough," Leon said, squeezing her hand. "Have you looked around? I'm gonna check out the floor."

 

"I'll go with you," her dad said.

 

"He's taking it seriously, isn't he?" she asked Elyan.

 

Her brother laughed. "You know how he is. Did you notice the crew cut? I'm not ready to get rid of my fade." He ran a hand over his short brown curls. "I'll get the rest of your stuff from the truck."

 

"You don't have to—"

 

"I know."

 

He left before she could protest further. Gwen started to follow him, but Morgana pulled her into conversation.

 

"What year are they at UVA?"

 

"Fourth," Gwen said. She looked at the guys. "Are you all coming here?"

 

"Blue and Gold all the way," Percival said.

 

"Are you on-campus, too?"

 

Merlin snickered. " _We_ are." He pointed to him and Percival. "We're in Saxon. E-22."

 

"The suites?"

 

Percival nodded. "Right across the street."

 

She spared a glance at Arthur. He was leaning against the desk, directly across from the open doorway. To her surprise, his attention was divided between the hall and her. When their eyes connected, he smiled.

 

Curiosity was dogging her. With Merlin's snicker and her natural nosiness, she really wanted to know where he was staying. But there was something about him that made her hesitate. He seemed more confidant than the boys she was used to. Merlin and Percival reminded her of friends from high school. Not Arthur.

 

"Go ahead," Merlin prompted. "Ask him."

 

She chewed her bottom lip. Prying was so tacky. Instead, she reached for the box Elyan had dropped on the floor. Before she could pick it up, Arthur lifted it.

 

"Where do you want it?"

 

"On the desk," she said. "I could have…"

 

"It was too heavy," he said with a shrug. "Don't mind them. They're being butts. I have a condo. It's walking distance. No big deal."

 

"Oh, you're sharing. How many roommates do you have?"

 

"Arthur? Share?" Morgana said, teasing. "No, it's his. Father's graduation gift. Or guilt gift. Take your pick. I forfeited mine."

 

Leon returned faster than Gwen could process Morgana's information about their father. Her friend wore a dark scowl on his face. Gwen looked to her father for answers, but only found amusement in his eyes.  She didn't have to wait long.

 

"The entire floor is co-ed," Leon said. "I can't believe you're okay with this," he added, looking at her father. "Maybe she can get a transfer to an all-girls dorm."

 

"Is there one?" Arthur asked.

 

Elyan returned with the last of Gwen's things to hear the conversation. He joined in with his father's chuckles. "Our Gwen will be just fine."

 

Morgana appeared at Gwen's side again. "With all this moving, we should take a break. Maybe go down to Westwood and get to know each other."

 

"On that cue, the dad leaves." Tom kissed Gwen and hugged Elyan and Leon.

 

"No, Mr. Degrance. Don't go," Morgana said. "I didn't mean…"

 

"It's fine. You young people should mingle or do whatever is it that you do," he said. "Gwen call me whenever. Boys, I don't have to tell you."

 

Gwen knew he was making his getaway first to prevent an emotional scene. Soon after he left, Elyan and Leon declined Morgana's suggestion.

 

"We'd love to, but our flight leaves in a couple of hours. We have to get to LAX."

 

Her eyes on Leon, Morgana said, "Maybe next time."

 

He shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

 

Both hugged Gwen and were gone far sooner than she liked. Too cover her sadness, she started to unpack and arrange her things. Behind her, Morgana ushered her boys out so that they can collaborate on their room. Merlin lingered at the door.

 

"Let's all get together later. We can meet you in the lobby? Gwen," he said, "you have to come, too."

 

"Okay."

 

"Call us when you're ready," Merlin said. "We'll be at Saxon."

 

"I have your number," Morgana said. "Now, shoo!"

 

Four hours later, the boys were waiting in the lobby when Gwen and Morgana arrived. The walk from the stairwell to them gave Gwen time to assess her new acquaintances. The time alone with Morgana had provided her the insight that while her roommate was wealthy, the other girl was down to earth. They may have a few differences, but Gwen held onto hope that ultimately they would get along very well. As for the boys… Already, she noted how the fairer sex was not oblivious to Arthur Pendragon. The blonde hair, amazing physique and the inherent charm made him a magnet. Hell, Percival with his height and adorable smile was getting his fair share of second glances, too. Merlin had a couple who were chatting him up.

 

Arthur noticed Morgana and Gwen first. He left the circle of girls and headed toward them. "Where should we go? To the Pier or Malibu?"

 

"We're in Westwood. Why not stay here?" Gwen said. "There's a place my mom loved when she was an undergrad."

 

"Do you think it's still around?" Percival asked.

 

Gwen nodded. "Probably."

 

"What is it?" Merlin wanted to know.

 

"Sak's."

 

Arthur grinned. "Sex? There's actually a place called that?"

 

Gwen blushed. "No, it's a Japanese place. S-a-k. Sak's Teriyaki. It's not upscale, though."

 

"Who cares about that? Is the food good?" Percival asked.

 

"Yes."

 

In a secluded alcove above the kitchen and other diners, the group got to know each other by discussing majors and summer adventures. While her new friends talked about Europe and shopping sprees in New York, all Gwen could contribute to the conversation was how she did the books for her dad in his shop.

 

"So you didn't do anything fun?" Arthur asked. "You worked all summer?"

 

"Pretty much," she said, spearing a gyoza.

 

"Girlfriend, stick with me," Morgana said. "We're gonna have a blast."

 

The boys laughed, and Gwen couldn't help but wonder what she had gotten herself into.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for checking out this story. The idea came from a writing prompt, and I couldn't resist. If you're reading Destined for Greatness, YES, new chapters are coming. I had to get this out of my system first. Now that it's out, my other fic, Desperate Measures (which is posted at another site) is getting my attention and then I'll update DfG. Yup, they're back on rotation. Thanks for bearing with me. I appreciate it. I also appreciate your thoughts on this story so don't be shy. Don't let the set-up fool you. This IS an Arwen fic!


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